“That’s just the point,” Eve exclaimed brightly. “I was wondering if by any chance—that is, we’re not so very heavy—you see, we’re late for supper as it is.”
“Well, get in,” he said ungraciously.
We needed no urging, which was fortunate. With more speed than grace we climbed into the rear of the wagon and in another minute were rattling down the road toward Beecham Corners.
Conversation was difficult. Only as we approached the crossroads I managed to make myself heard, “Oh, my suitcase!” I cried. “I can’t go home without my suitcase.”
The horses were pulled up sharply. “What’s the matter now?” inquired the boy.
I left Eve to make explanations. I was out of the wagon in one leap and flying up the road toward Trap’s. I found the case in the front hall just as Mr. Bangs had said. Nobody was about so I just took it and went out. Panting, I returned to the wagon.
“Mr. Doe’s going almost to Fishers Haven; isn’t that luck?” Eve said as she reached down to give me a hand. “He says we can ride as far as he goes. Or at least,” she added, twinkling, “he didn’t say we couldn’t.”
It was dusk when we saw the white houses of Fishers Haven ahead of us. At a spreading farmhouse on the outskirts, our equipage came to a stop. “This is where I live,” the boy said.
We climbed stiffly to the ground. “I suppose,” said Eve, smiling up at the boy, “that you have no idea who we are?”
It was now our turn to be surprised. “Sure. You’re the girls who are staying at Mrs. Poole’s.”